


Just Enough (to Make it Convincing)

by PAPERSK1N



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Beach Sex, But not explicit, Drug Use, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Famous!Gavin, Friends With Benefits, Gavin is an asshole, Hollywood, M/M, Mavin, Mentions of Sex, Model!Gavin, Paparazzi, Press and Tabloids, Public Sex, Raywood, Recreational Drug Use, Side Raywood, The slow mo guys, achievement hunter - Freeform, actor!michael, famous!michael - Freeform, little angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-08-29 13:11:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8491018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PAPERSK1N/pseuds/PAPERSK1N
Summary: Michael's been a known B-Lister in Hollywood since he started on an ABC Sitcom, aged seventeen. A life of moderate fame has never done him any harm- even when he publicly came out of the closet with one hundred percent backing from his agency (Achievement Hunter) and all the love and support in the world from his Agent (Lindsay).Michael's life is perfect. And then Lindsay drops the bomb.Achievement Hunter is a business, and more importantly, a Hollywood business. Where there's a potential for exposure, there's an angle. Where there's an openly bi action-movie star strolling down the red carpet single and happy, there's room for a piece of arm candy at his side.Lindsay introduces Michael to Gavin Free, ex Slow-Mo Guy, current asshole. Michael's image needs to be maintained. Gavin's needs to be reformed. Two birds, one stone, right?This would be all well and good, of course, if Gavin Free wasn't the biggest fucking douchebag Michael had ever met. Things only get more complicated from there.Completed!!





	1. Image

**Author's Note:**

> New fic! Hope you enjoy.

**Chapter One: Image**

 

 

Being a movie star, in Michael’s opinion, fucking _rocked_.

 

The first few years of his fame- starting off as a baby-faced guest star in a dumb situational comedy that pulled in millions on millions of viewers every week- had done little to train him into the world of _actual Hollywood_ , and by the age of twenty-four (when he’d picked up his first main role in a _real_ movie) Michael had to take a step back on the red carpet, blink in front of the flashing lights and wonder how the _fuck_ he ended up there.

He wasn’t much of a bad-ass in person (and still had a stupid baby face that couldn’t grow facial hair) but playing one on screen was a pretty decent job. Acting had always been the love of his life rather than _fame_ \- so when initial speculation about his romantic pasts and sexuality whipped through trash magazine after trash magazine, Michael hadn’t paid it much mind. He fucking loved acting, and he also loved fucking. Mainly dudes- but the occasional girl didn’t exactly ruin his night either. He was also well aware that being a dude known for acting super-tough-guy in ever movie didn’t exactly peg well for being openly fucking gay-slash-bi-slash-whatever-the-fuck-he-was-these-days, so when Lindsay (his publicist and arguably one of his better LA friends) suggested he come out _publicly_ on fucking _The Tonight Show_ , his head span.

That had been the past year for Michael. A spin. It was like he was constantly stuck on a fucking merry-go-round, rocking up and down on his stupid spangled horse as reporter after reporter delved into his life and asked the same questions- mostly all revolving around one thing. Him being _gay_.

Michael didn’t really care. In his head, it had always been a matter of _so what I like dudes_ and he’d never let anyone’s opinion on it bother him. He knew that Hollywood ran on reputation and he also knew he was fucking _lucky_ that even in 2016, he hadn’t received much backlash at all. His fans had been overwhelmingly supportive, and he still made bank as the abrasive shouty male supporting lead just behind the hot-but-tough busty chick at the lead’s side in the posters. Everything had changed- but like how it usually went in Hollywood, under the fresh coat of paint it was still the same old merry-go-round chugging along and signing a tune. A year had passed, and nobody had tried to murder him. A few homophobic assholes had made their voices heard on fucking _twitter_ and he trended for a week or two, but after the initial hubbub of homosexuality, Michael had been content to fade back in the background. He wasn’t fucking _Brad Pitt_ or _George Clooney_ level of celebrity. He was _famous_ , sure, but he could still walk down the streets of LA without a team of bodyguards. He could still go and get fro-yo without fifty thousand people swarming him. He could sign autographs for little boys and make the occasional appearances in hospitals dressed up like his characters- but he didn’t find himself booked up at the _fancy_ homes for dying kids like fucking _Chris Evans_ and _Robert Downy Jr_.

He was B-List, and that was how he was content to stay. B-list, and Bisexual (almost? Nearly? He still wasn’t sure, even after all these years) so when Lindsay’s name filled the screen of his phone one afternoon when she hadn’t scheduled a meeting, he frowned, wondering what the fuck she could possibly want at four o’clock on a Sunday.

“Lindsay. What’s up?” he asked.

“I’ve got news.” She said, and faintly, he could hear the clicking of fingers against a keyboard in the background. Michael sat up on his couch, feeling his heart clench just a little. Lindsay never answered the phone so abruptly unless she was serious. “What’s up?” he asked. “Is this about the Scorsese role thing?”

“No, you didn’t get that- but that’s not why I was calling.”

“Damn it” Michael gripped his fists. He’d fucking _nailed_ that audition. “Why are you calling, then?”

“Look, I just wanna start by saying that the agency is really happy with the way you’ve handled all this coming out stuff, your image is still doing so great and you’re successful and-”

“-please don’t tell me I’m getting dropped.” Michael felt his face pale. “Lindsay. I swear to God if you’re dropping me over the phone I’m gonna come over there and ram it down your fucking throat, oh my _god_ I’m getting fired, aren’t I? _Shit_! Lindsay what the-”

“Michael!” She cut him off. “Relax! You’re not getting fired. Take a few breaths and fucking listen for once in your life, honestly!”

Feeling himself relax instantly, Michael slipped the phone onto loudspeaker and let it rest beside him on the couch as he stretched out, laying back at the arm rest with his hands clasped over his chest. _Thank fuck for that,_ he thought to himself.

“Look- all that’s happening is the agency… they’re loving this fucking gay thing, okay? I know, it’s dumb but... I’ve been told to let you know that the agency are insisting that I get you a boyfriend to keep up your image of a positive gay role model for American fucking teens.”

Instantly, Michael shot back up in his seat. “ _What?!_ ” he snapped.

“Look I don’t make the rules!” Lindsay shot back, sounding stressed and defensive. “I just get told what to do. Check your email right now, I’m sending over some headshots of the guy we’re thinking.”

“And I just get no fucking say in this at all?!” Michael demanded, reaching over to grab his Macbook and scroll through his recent emails before he found the one from Lindsay. “Oh, and it’s _this_ fuck!”

 _This_ _fuck_ , Michael instantly recognised to be a known model, socialite and one-half of the ex-daytime-television, emmy-award-winning sensation _The Slo Mo Guys._

“That’s Gavin Free. I’m guessing by your reaction you know who he is.”

“Yeah, I used to love that Slow-Mo shit. Never understood why they cancelled it.” He shrugged, clicking through photo after photo. _Gavin Free_ had seemingly changed a lot since the last time Michael had seen him- on an old late night re-run of The Slow Mo Guys, where Free and his other British friend (Danny? Dean, was it?) played around with explosives and other cool shit whilst filming it on an ultra-slow-motion movie camera. Whereas then, the dude had seemed pretty straight edge with his floppy _European_ hair and crooked, toothy smile, he had suddenly transformed in the few short years since the show ended and a permanent move to LA took its toll. The Gavin Free he saw in the photos had brown hair that stuck up at all angles but still managed to look styled, a sharp jawline and a broody smoulder as he lounged around in expensive-looking-clothing and smoked cigarettes. Michael resisted the urge to roll his eyes. All the douchebag needed was a black and white filter.

“Gavin’s co-host, Dan had to move back to England for their military.” Lindsay told him. “But, Gavin wanted to stay so he joined a modelling agency. Now he walks for Dolce&Gabbana, Hugo Boss, Versace, you name it- he’s done it.”

“Say’s here he’s also known as a fucking crackhead.” Michael mumbled, scrolling through the recent news articles that were listed from the moment he named Gavin into the google search bar. “Gavin Free caught with coke at an airport, Gavin Free stumbles out of club at six am, Gavin Free calls Leonardo DiCaprio a _fucking wanker_ \- _Jesus,_ who the fuck are you setting me up with, Lindsay? Isn’t this meant to be about maintaining my image?!”

“Well…” Lindsay went quiet for a few seconds, and Michael could almost imagine her looking up from her cubicle, around at her co-workers to check if they were listening in. “Word in the office is it’s also about fixing his image too, getting him into a stable looking relationship, burying the headlines about drug habits and stuff.” She whispered. “Two birds, one stone, you know how it is.”

“This is _bullshit_.” Michael set his laptop down, and laid back on the couch. “You’re really saying I have no fucking choice in this, at all?”

“I don’t makes the rules.” Lindsay replied. “I’m setting up a meeting on Tuesday morning so be here on time. Now I gotta go- we’ll do lunch soon, okay?”

Michael scoffed. “You sound just like an agent.” He told her.

“Yeah, that’s ‘cause I am an agent, dipshit. We’ll talk later, Jones.”

Michael sighed. “Talk later, Tuggey.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Michael was, in his opinion, an agents dream.

Whenever Lindsay called his phone, he stopped whatever it was he was doing and answered. He _talked_ with her- kept her updated on his schedule and notified her everyday he was busy weeks in advance. Michael did more-or-less exactly as he was told in interviews, on the red carpet and kept secret information secret. He knew all the people who worked over at _Achievement Hunter_ \- from Geoff, the boss, all the way down to Steffie- the desk manager. He brought fucking _donuts_ and _Kolaches_ in on days when he had meetings. Most importantly, he showed up to meetings on time, sat where he was supposed to fucking sit and listened whilst Lindsay or Jack or Geoff told him what to do, how to do it and when it was going to happen.

Gavin was, in Michael’s brief observation, an agent’s nightmare.

He strolled into their interview half-an-hour late with a lit cigarette between his teeth despite the fact that they were inside and it wasn’t two thousand and fucking seven- hair messy and eyes strained. His tan leather jacket looked expensive and douchey as he slipped it from his narrow shoulders and tossed it down onto the table, converse trainers squeaking against the linoleum floor as he swaggered up to the table and slumped into a seat a few along from Michael, who he turned to look at over the top of his golden-rimmed glasses and flashed a smirk.

“You can’t smoke in here Gavin.” Lindsay said, but the roll of her eyes told Michael it was likely something she’d asked the douchebag before, and his hypothesis was proved when she reached into a nearby desk drawer and pulled out a tiny plastic ashtray, sliding it over the table towards him. Gavin caught it without looking, too content hanging over the back of the chair and staring at Michael as he pulled the cigarette from his mouth and stubbed it out into the tray.

“What, have I got something on my fucking face?” Michael snapped. Most people’s reaction to his angry, abrasive demeanour was usually to snap back, or be intimidated. Defying expectation, Gavin grinned.

“You’re actually quite cute, in real life.” He said. Michael rolled his eyes and looked away, instead turning his attention to Lindsay who shrugged and mouthed a pathetic _sorry_. Michael watched as Gavin’s slender fingers drummed against the table, each tap sending more tension into his shoulders. The guy was fucking _infuriating_ , and he wasn’t even doing anything.

“Right, so the plan here is-”

“Me and Michael have to pretend to be shagging, blah, blah blah.” Gavin rolled his eyes as his sunglasses sat low on his nose, before fumbling into his pocket to pull out a shiny gold IPhone, case-free. “Don’t worry Lindsay, I know it seems like he hates my guts right now- but I’m sure we’ll be boi’s in no time!” he said with a grin, before pulling up twitter and browsing meaninglessly.

Michael’s jaw practically hit the table. The fucking _nerve_ of the guy- and Lindsay, who didn’t tolerate shit from _anyone_ , was taking it all in her fucking stride like he did that kind of thing every day. Michael dreaded to think who had been unlucky enough to be burdened with the task of being Gavin Free’s agent.

“Boi’s?” he decided to question, hoping the grinding of his teeth wasn’t obvious. Gavin didn’t even look up from his phone. “Yeah, boi’s. You and me, Michael boi!”

“It’s fucking Michael-”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“No.” Michael clenched a fist over the table. “You said _micool_. My name is fucking Michael.”

Gavin snorted, eyes darting to the fist on the table briefly. “Easy Rage Quit.” He smirked, referencing the old nickname Michael hated so much from the early days of his career. Turned out, when you played the foul-mouthed angry kid on the sitcom that America ranked number seven in _greatest family situational comedies of all time_ , you were almost guaranteed to get stuck with the stupid douchebag nickname that carried you from the ages of seventeen to twenty-two.

“Gavin, easy. What did I tell you about pushing Michael’s buttons?” Lindsay warned, eyeing the two like a teacher scolding naughty students. Michael was just thankful she’d said anything at all, because the longer the tense silence stretched the more he wanted to grab Gavin Free by the throat and punch him right in his pretty mouth.

_Wait. When did I start looking at his lips in enough detail to describe them as pretty?_

Michael couldn’t deny that Gavin was somewhat appealing- what with being a model and all, but his selfish, irresponsible and stuck-up personality was really distracting him from his pert, thin lips and his sparkling green eyes and his soft, almost sandy hair. Well. It was almost distracting him from all that- which paired with his lean torso and long thin legs was the perfect combination of clumsy, un-coordinating Adonis.

“Sorry _Michael_.” Gavin smiled, catching his attention again. “I’m sure you’ll do fine, Mr Real-Actor. Now, I’ve got to go anyway.” He looked back at Lindsay before standing up, chair scraping on the floor of the room. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled a fresh white cigarette too his lips, golden zippo lighter already in his other hand and ready to flick. “Meetings are fun and all,” he shrugged heading towards the door despite Lindsay’s obvious protest, “But I’ve got places to go, people to see- Michael love, you understand. Lindsay, text Ryan when you need me and I’ll show up, alright?”

He didn’t give her much time to answer before he left the room, an soiled ashtray and a slight lingering of smoke being the only indicator of his presence at all. Lindsay turned from the door to look at Michael apologetically, but it was futile. He flipped her off, unsure of what else to do, and took the very same exit door.

“We’ll reschedule. I promise!” Lindsay called after him down the hall. “I’ve sent you Gavin’s number. Try texting him. I promise he isn’t as much of an asshole as he seems to be!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Michael didn’t want to like Gavin, but Lindsay told him that he had to since, even after their disaster of a meeting, the agency had decided that a move to ‘couple-up’ the pair of them would be in everyone’s best interests. Michael wasn’t sure if anyone had even considered his best interest, what with the way Gavin had Geoff wrapped around his finger and saved in his back pocket for later, along with the devastatingly powerful backup of his agent, Ryan Haywood- but he knew that unless he left Achievement Hunter (Which was _never_ an option), he was going to have to suck it up and let this ‘relationship’ run its course.

He kept an eye on twitter and Facebook and other various forms of social media as Lindsay got to work, leaking more and more fabricated details and made up sightings of the two of them going on dates and ‘hanging out’ more and more according to a thousand anonymous sources that were all actually just Lindsay and a keyboard. It was a slow build-up of rumoured sightings over the coming weeks, and questions were already flying at Michael left right and centre every time he got near social media or a reporter- so he figured soon enough he and Gavin would actually have to be seen together.

On Ryan’s suggestion, they started things off by interacting more on twitter. Michael would write snarky replies to Gavin’s spiel of complete nonsense and Gavin would reply that Michael was his _boi_ and that _He’d go and see Michael’s stupid movie, because obviously, nobody else is going to (bit.ly/WMD.Movie.Tickets)_. It was surprising to Michael how easy these things were to fabricate, because by the third week of romance rumours even his own mother was calling him up to ask if he had a boyfriend and hadn’t told her. He gave her details on the situation as vaguely and simply as he could- but by the end of the phone-call she was congratulating him on _finally finding someone_ and inviting Gavin out to New Jersey ASAP.

( _@AH_Michael: Hey, @gavinfree my mom wants to meet you._

_@GavinFree: tell denise I’m on my way!!!!)_

Flirting with Gavin over twitter was one thing, but when it came to actually talking to the guy- Michael fell short. He’d been toying with the idea of dropping the idiot a text or a call to the number Lindsay had sent him, but had every time decided at the last minute that it was stupid, he was stupid and most importantly, Gavin was stupid. So why fucking bother, right?

“You still haven’t talked to him?” Lindsay sounded stressed over the phone. That was how she sounded most days, since the whole Him-and-Gavin mess had started. Michael didn’t like it- because normally when he spoke to Lindsay she was bouncy and fun and made him feel better about his shitty day on set or his inability to grow facial hair and play a character older than twenty-five, despite being a year away from thirty. “Michael, you moron- your movie premiere is in two weeks, you do know that, right?”

Michael gritted his teeth. And then there was the movie premiere. WMD was a war-themed movie where Michael co-starred as the optimistic yet reckless best friend of an army hero in World War 2. It was your typical inspiring historical movie with a little comic relief and heteronormative romance thrown in for good measure as Michael opened fire with a bunch of other historically inaccurate white guys whilst cracking jokes about _broads_ and _the Japanese_. It wasn’t a role he was particularly inspired by- but it payed the bills. The red carpet premier was in two weeks, which was the perfect opportunity to debut Gavin as his boyfriend by taking him as his _date_. At least, that had been the plan constructed by the agency. If Michael couldn’t prove to Lindsay that he and Gavin could play the role together and make it convincing, then it would be scrapped and she’d be in shit.

Michael didn’t want Lindsay to be in shit. So, he sucked it up and fired off a text.

_To: Gavin Free_

_Hey dipshit. We’ve got the premiere in two weeks so I guess we should spend some actual time to like… get to know each other before we pretend to be in love. Do you wanna come hang out for drinks or something?_

He left it at that. If Gavin wanted to reply, he could reply. Michael wasn’t bothered.

 

* * *

 

 

Gavin didn’t reply.

“Still nothing?” Ray looked across the couch at Michael, who had abandoned his controller in favour of his phone, which he was frowning at bitterly. He shook his head and sighed. “I’ve texted the guy four times in the last week and there’s nothing. Lindsay is going to have my fucking _ass_.”

Ray rolled his eyes, and continued slaying zombies. “Dude, if she should be fucking anyone up then it should be Gavin. Dudes clearly an asshole- you know he called me _brownman_ when I first met him? Not even my name- my fucking _gamer tag_ , like- who does that?”

“I don’t know.” Michael shrugged. “But what I do know is that it isn’t Lindsay’s job to kick Gavin’s ass- that’s fucking Ryan’s job. However, Geoff can still kick _her_ ass if Gavin doesn’t play his part. That’s the bit that sucks.”

“What an asshole.” Ray hummed. Michael sighed, heavily.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, looking back over at Ray. “You couldn’t like… ask Ryan maybe if Gavin could-”

“-Don’t even fucking finish that sentence.” Ray said, warningly. “Ryan and I fuck, he leaves and I play video games till I stop thinking about him. We don’t talk about work. We don’t talk about clients. We don’t talk about Achievement Hunter.”

“Sheesh.” Michael rolled his eyes. “You been talking to Jack again? I know he’s the lawyer guy but you don’t think he’d actually get-”

“-Fired for fucking a co-worker? _Yes_. We would both get fired. That’s why we keep things separate. Go ask someone else for information about your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Michael grumbled, but his denial was futile.

“And Ryan isn’t mine. End of.” Ray was clearly done with the Gavin Free topic of conversation, and was once again far more interested in Call of Duty to care. Sighing again, but realising there wasn’t much he could do, Michael picked his controlled back up and tossed his phone onto the couch.

So _what_ if Gavin Free was an asshole? Michael was apparently just going to have to _deal_ with it, for Lindsay’s sake if not his own.

That didn’t mean he liked it. Not one bit.

 

 


	2. Debut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Gavin have their first public outing as a couple. Things go about as well as you can imagine, for one B-List actor and his eccentric, promiscuous companion.

Chapter Two: Debut

 

 

 

Before the official debut of _Michael-and-Gavin_ , _real life couple_ , Lindsay had insisted that they spend at least one afternoon under her watchful eye, so she could make sure they looked convincing enough to go on camera. It was scheduled to be at three, and Michael was there bang-on, sat in the meeting room with his hands gripped together tightly, glaring at the door as they awaited Gavin’s arrival.

Obviously, Gavin was late. Half an hour into their session he strolled in, a beaten light-wash denim jacket covering his narrow bony shoulders and jet black ripped jeans clinging to his tiny thighs. His feet were stuffed in _Union-Jack_ printed Converse with dirty brown laces and instead of his signature gold aviators, small round black sunglasses covered his eyes. His hair was dirty looking and limp, one hand clutching a coffee tightly and the other spinning his phone aimlessly.

“Alright.” He nodded in greeting at the pair of them, and Michael smiled for nothing other than to avoid yelling. Lindsay glared as Gavin flopped into the seat beside him, shrugging his jacket off onto the back of his chair. “You’re late.” She said. Gavin shrugged.

“Sorry. I got an Uber, traffic was a nightmare. You know how it is.”

“You’re hungover.” She told him.

Gavin smirked. “Just a little bit,” he yawed. “But I’m here, aren’t I? Can we get on with this or what?”

Michael was seething, and with every breath it was becoming more obvious. His body went ridged as Gavin’s ragdolled, practically melting into chair as he lifted his feet and perched them up on the table. Before Lindsay had the chance to start speaking, Michael stood suddenly, chair screeching on the floor. “Could I, uh, get a quick word with Gavin here?” He asked her. “ _Outside_.”

Lindsay sighed, but nodded, gesturing to the door. Michael grabbed Gavin by the shoulder of his flimsy T-shirt and all but dragged him out into the hallway, slamming the door closed behind them.

“Michael!” Gavin smirked, resting a hand on his chest. “If you wanted to make out with me, all you had to do was _ask_ , jeez-”

“- _Why_ do you have to be such an asshole, huh?” Michael shoved Gavin lightly, making him stumble backwards slightly. Gavin let his hand fall back defencelessly to his side, but his smirk didn’t fade. Tilting his head slightly, his glasses slid down to perch on the end of his nose, and Michael stared into his tired, bloodshot eyes. “Well?” Michael prompted. “C’mon, there must be a reason. Is it me, or the agency- what about this is forcing you to be so fucking difficult? I’m guessing it’s _me_ , right- as you won’t even bother to return my calls?”

“Your calls?” Gavin frowned. “What bloody calls?”

“I’ve been fucking calling and texting you all _week_ , seeing if you wanted to hang out before all this started up. Maybe, I don’t know, find a way to be some sort of _friends_ before we have to convince the world that we’re dating, you know?” Michael yelled, until a frightened looking intern darted past them and he lowered his voice to an angry whisper. “But you won’t answer. Cause you don’t give a fuck about anything, right?”

“Well,” Gavin said, smile slowly starting to re-appear on his face. “A,” he said, “I changed my number because I got a new phone. And B- I thought you didn’t want to be my friend.”

For emphasis, he’d slipped his phone out of the tiny pocket and tapped it against Michael’s heaving chest. As the metal touched his skin, Michael felt his anger dramatically reduce, like boiling water in a pot with the heat turned down. Suddenly, he didn’t feel like choking Gavin out anymore. The guy was still an asshole, sure- but at least he wasn’t actively avoiding his calls.

“Fine.” Michael said, holding his hands up. “Then for the record, I’m sorry. I just want this to work up, and I think this will be easier if we’re actually, you know, _friends_.”

“Michael!” Gavin practically giggled and Michael rolled his eyes, folding his arms over his chest. “You wanna be _friends_? Of course we can, boi!” then, Gavin leant forwards, and pulled him into a tight hug which Michael reluctantly reciprocated. Surprisingly, Gavin’s skin was warm and soft as it wrapped around him, and Michael wondered if maybe he could get used to the guys infuriating presence after all.

“Whatever.” He leant out of the embrace, forcing Gavin to step back. “Let’s just… do our jobs, right? We’ll see about the rest.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

On the carpet, Gavin was nothing short of a fucking natural.

In the car on the way there, Michael had been almost silent as Gavin babbled on the phone to a friend, blasting the AC so he wouldn’t look like he was dripping with sweat to the cameras. He’d been to a million movie premieres- but never with a _real_ _date_. Never with someone as unpredictable as _Gavin_.

Michael had gone for the traditional black tuxedo, shiny silver cufflinks that would surely catch the camera flash tightly holding the cuffs together. Gavin however, had dressed in a slightly more _alternative_ fashion with jet black denim shorts that fell just above his knees and hugged his ass as tightly as spandex. He’d paired that with a white button up shirt that Michael had called shabby (he’d explained it was _distressed,_ and it was _Givenchy-_ so why was he even complaining?) His shoes were shiny and expensive looking sneakers and a neat little silver chain hung underneath the crease of his collar. Paired with a slim fitting black blazer, it wasn’t something that Michael would’ve picked off a rack in a million years, but he had to give it to Gavin- the guy looked _good_.

As they approached the carpet and their driver gave them the signal that the doors would be opened any second, Gavin hung up his phone and tucked it into his back pocket. “Hey,” he nudged Michael, who had been staring out the tinted one-way windows at the fans and reporters who were slowly swarming the back of their car. “You ready, boi?” he reached forwards, and laced their fingers together. Michael took in a long, calming breath, before nodding and reaching forwards to open the door. A steward, however, beat him to it and the door swung open to their audience of flashes. Michael stepped out of the car first, and pulled Gavin along beside him, the two hand in hand.

Gavin, despite his lack of actual effort in much preparation, did everything _perfectly_. He smiled in all the right places, laughed at bad jokes made by reporters for _hilarious_ millennial websites and stood back so that Michael could answer all the important movie questions about his character and his experience. However, most of the journalists only wanted to know one thing:

“So, Mr Jones- is this you confirming all the rumours surrounding you and Mr Free?” one lady asked, braver apparently than the rest, who had skirted around the direct question as best as they could whilst still receiving enough to craft their article on the _couple of the moment_. Michael put on his best smile, and tugged at Gavin’s hand, pulling him away from the other reporter that he was talking to.

“What do you think, Gav?” he asked playfully. “Is this us confirming all the rumours?”

Gavin’s response was to laugh, before leaning in to kiss Michael softly on the cheek. Michael took advantage of the situation to do one better, turning his head at the last second so Gavin connected with his lips instead, and the crowd of reporters cooed.

“No more questions, thanks.” Michael said afterwards, pulling Gavin over to the main strip of the carpet where they would be photographed before making their way into the movie. “Wasn’t that just precious?” Gavin mumbled as they made their way to the press wall where the sponsoring logos stood. “Shut the fuck up,” Michael mumbled back through gritted teeth, before wrapping an arm around Gavin’s waist and pulling him close so they could be framed together in the photos that _actually_ mattered. Gavin, being the complete asshole he was, took things a step further and leant his whole body into Michael’s, before dipping his head slightly to whisper in his ear.

“You know; I’ve had a brilliant idea.” He breathed. Michael resisted the urge to shudder.

“Oh yeah,” grin, pose, click. “What’s that?” he muttered through his smile, extra cautious of reporters trying to read his lips. He had no idea what Gavin was playing at, rubbing his hands in the back of Michael’s hair softly and smirking into the side of his face, but the journalists were _eating_ it up as flashbulb after flashbulb popped, making his eyes burn. “Just that, if we’re supposed to be pretending to be shagging- what’s the harm in doing it for real? You know, for _research_ purposes.”

Michael felt his heart speed up, and did his best not to look completely lost. Instead, he laughed, as if Gavin had made the most hilarious joke, before dropping his date’s waist and grabbing him tightly by the hand, leading him quickly off down the carpet and towards the entrance of the theatre. Gavin did nothing but cackle with laughter the whole way over, and Michael let him.

Gavin Free was a total tease. Michael had known that before even meeting the guy- but if Gavin was going to insist on being so insufferable, it was going to be a difficult few months.

Michael laughed to himself in the cinema, after the movie had started at the mere thought of even sleeping with Gavin. Like he’d ever be into skinny guys with pert asses and flirty smiles and pretty, green eyes. _Nope_ , Michael gripped the seat-rest tightly. _Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about how good his ass looked and how nice his breath felt on your ear. Fuck. That fucker. I’m going to fucking kill him._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Gavin surprisingly sat through the movie without checking his phone eighty-thousand times and laughed politely at all the funny bits. He leant against Michael’s shoulder, and towards the end when Michael did his dramatic, romantic speech, he tucked his head into the crook of Michael’s neck and smiled to himself. Michael couldn’t bring himself to remind Gavin that there wasn’t any press inside the theatre, because Gavin’s company was actually quite warm and welcoming beside him.

“So, where’s the after party?” Gavin asked, chipper as they exited the theatre and were rushed back to their car without the chance to speak again with the press. “I’ve got half a gram of _Ketamine_ in my left pocket and an eighth of _marijuana_ in my right.” His eyes sparkled excitedly, and the way his tongue curled playfully around the word _marijuana_ had Michael questioning whether he was being serious or not. He paused before replying, remembering Gavin’s colourful reputation. Then, when Gavin actually produced a small clear zip-lock bag from his left pocket and waved it in front of Michael’s face, soft-looking white powder dancing around inside, he rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a junkie.” Michael said and Gavin grinned in response, dipping his finger in the bag and waving it towards Michael’s nose. “Come on _boi_ , we’re celebrities aren’t we? Live I little- I wanna get absolutely _wonky_.”

“ _Absolutely wonky_!” Michael teased, the cruelly shoddy impersonation of Gavin’s accent making the Brit screw up his nose and pout, withdrawing his finger and rubbing it around his gums. “You fucking moron. There’s an after party at some club but, I doubt I’m gonna stay for long. I’m not really a wild partying guy.” He continued, as Gavin grimaced at the taste of Ketamine in his mouth.

“Whatever.” Gavin chugged the rest of Michael’s sprite before leaning back into the plus leather seats and pulled his second baggy (which was, indeed stuffed with weed) out of his pocket along with some other paraphernalia including a packet of fancy-looking tobacco that Michael was clued up enough to know was for rolling. Gavin was quite nimble as he did it too, despite the sharp turns the car was taking as they were lead to the premiere party. He finished rolling his joint with a smirk, holding it up to the light in the roof of the car in admiration before tucking it behind his ear.

“You’re fucking crazy.” Michael said, unsure of what else he _could_ say. Gavin grinned.

“I am pretty radge, love.” He said, the car slowing to a stop. Michael could hear the footsteps of the driver, rounding the car and heading towards their door. Gavin brushed the scraps of tobacco off his lap and onto the carpet without care, and with a final smirk, he tucked his joint into the corner of his mouth and bopped out of the car with confidence as he lit it, the moment the door was opened.

Michael bit his lip, hesitating before joining his “date”. On one hand, Gavin was a known partier and would probably be doing drugs and getting completely trashed until the early hours of the morning. Michael had never been that kind of guy- but he’d been around drugs plenty and tried his fair share over the years. He didn’t have a particular dislike for drugs, he just didn’t partake often. Gavin seemed excited enough, rocking on his heels as he puffed on his joint- or _spliff_ , which he’d called it earlier. Michael shrugged as he joined his “date”, who offered the joint to him with a casual, drowsy smile. Maybe he did need to relax.

Michael pulled the joint to his lips and took a long, deep hit. Maybe Gavin wasn’t so bad after all, he thought. Maybe a chance to relax and enjoy a party would do them and their so-called ‘relationship’ both some good.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations to Michael and Lindsay on their awesome news!!!!!
> 
>  
> 
> Twitter: @PAPERSK1N  
> Tumblr: PAPERSK1N.tumblr.com


	3. Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael goes to 'surprise' Gavin at work, and a series of other set up appearances. Ray and Ryan warn him that the two are getting too close. Michael makes a mistake.

Chapter Three: Work

 

Lindsay was gushing- the full beam of her pearly-white Hollywood grin even transmittable over the phone, and Michael couldn’t help himself. He was smiling too.

“It was perfect, Michael. Geoff gave me a fucking raise and everything!”

“You deserve it, Linds.” Michael wandered the shiny floors of his empty apartment, a cold beer slowly numbing his fist. Gavin had been over earlier in the day, so obviously, he was still more than a little tipsy. For some reason, whenever they ended up hanging out becoming intoxicated was inevitable. “Honestly. I doubted you at first, but Gav… he’s pretty cool.”

“When he leant over and whispered in your ear at the premiere I nearly cried with happiness. The reporters ate that shit up.”

Michael gulped, hoping Lindsay didn’t hear as a blush settled over his cheeks. “Yup…” he mumbled. “Gav’s… a good actor, I guess.”

“He’s got a ton of new casting calls recently too,” Lindsay replied. “Actually- there’s one I want to talk to you about. He’s doing a shoot for PAPER magazine, and I want to set up you going over there to ‘surprise’ him. You know- that mushy couple shit. Gavin’s on board.”

Michael wandered over to his couch, leaning against the back of it with a quiet sigh as his head slowly spun. Yes, he and Gavin had been doing quite well with the “mushy couple shit”. Over the last few weeks since the premier, it had been staged outing after staged outing. Fancy dinners and front row seats at plays and fashion catwalks. Gavin had to show his face at Michael’s casting calls and equally, Michael had to go along whenever Gavin was doing a public event like a signing or club appearance.

He didn’t mind it so much, because he and Gavin had actually been getting along _swimmingly_. Little things, like holding Gavin’s hand as they rushed past paparazzi in the street or kissing him softly on the lips or the fingers when the cameras were aimed at them through the clear windows of a restaurant or café was becoming like a reflex. Gavin was a typical _model_ \- pouty and whiny with an eerie sixth sense for when he was being filmed and photographed. Even the simplest of outings- Michael driving Gavin home from his apartment in the morning after a night of drinking- Gavin would whip his head around and spot a fan in the distance with her IPhone aimed at them, and smile, before leaning over and planting one on Michael there and then.

Not much more had been said on Michael’s behalf regarding Gavin’s previous offer at the premiere, but that hadn’t discouraged the socialite. Gavin was ridiculously flirty- whether it was in public, over twitter or when they were simply _together_ , alone and hanging out together in Michael’s apartment with some drinks or a little bit of weed. Gavin would do little things to rile Michael up whether they were alone or not, like stroke the tips of his ears, rest his head on Michael’s shoulder. He’d run his fingers up Michael’s arm “absent-mindedly”, or send him cheeky texts and “snapchats”- a ridiculous photo sharing app Gavin had _forced_ him to download. Michael was slowly getting the hang of it- and around two hundred thousand people had already added him to view his stories, which he only bothered posting when Gavin was around. It was miniscule compared to the 1.2 million viewers Gavin boasted on a regular basis- as he felt the need to snapchat everything from expensive fittings for various designers to he and Michael dicking about drunkenly in the back of the car after snooty events with free champagne. Michael loved it when Gavin drank champagne. He got awfully giggly.

“Dude, just take him up on the banging offer already.” Ray rolled his eyes, head laid back against Ryan’s bicep on the couch. Michael had strayed away from the “not-couple” in favour of the armchair, and did his best to focus on the screen and pretend he couldn’t see Ryan eyeing Ray’s ass hungrily whenever his best-friend bent over to reach for his drink or pizza. “Seriously. Gavin wants to fuck you, and you obviously want to fuck him by the amount you talk about him. Just bang him.”

“Oddly enough, I agree.” Ryan ran his fingers through Ray’s hair and took a drag from his cigarette. “Gavin is definitely serious in his offer- Gavin’s _always_ serious when it comes to sex.”

“Ryan’s banged him already!” Ray chipped in. Michael tried to ignore the way his fingers tightened around his controller when Ryan nodded smugly and rested his back head against the sofa to recall the memory.

“He’s very… energetic. Like a rabbit on fucking acid.” He mused, and after a pause added; “Well, knowing Gavin he probably was.”

“Whatever.” Michael rolled his eyes, trying to scrub the image of Ryan’s large hands all over Gavin’s stick-thin body out of his mind. It was bad enough he had to listen to him bang Ray through the walls whenever they both stayed over. “I’m not going to fuck Gavin. We’re getting along fine. I’m not going to over-complicate things between us and risk messing it all up.”

“Isn’t sex supposed to make everything better?” Ray mumbled, tilting his head to smirk up at Ryan, who grinned wolfishly. Michael groaned.

“If you guys are gonna continue being gross, I’m leaving.” He warned, but neither Ray nor Ryan seemed to pay much mind. Ray actually bothered to make eye contact, smirking at him briefly before sitting up in Ryan’s lap and kissing him. “You’re the worst!” Michael huffed, standing up and fumbling for his car keys in his pocket as Ryan’s hands began to wander below Ray’s narrow waist. “Seriously. You guys _suck_.”

“We usually save that ‘till after you’ve left.” Ryan joked. Michael feigned gagging.

“Unlike you sex-crazed fucking psychos, I’m gonna go get some sleep and then tomorrow, I’m gonna ‘surprise’ my ‘boyfriend’ at his photoshoot. And I’m _not_ gonna fuck him. I’m just gonna focus on my image and doing what the fuck Lindsay tells me.”

“Lock the door on your way out!” Ray called, as Ryan lifted his shirt above his head. Michael rolled his eyes and quickly made his way out of the apartment, pulling the door tightly closed behind him and working the second lock with the spare key Ray left under the mat.

 _Fucking Gavin_ , he thought, a small smile playing on his lips. _Still the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard._

_000000000000000000_

The photoshoot was for PAPER Magazine, and despite not being nearly as clued up on what was _cool_ as Gavin liked to think, Michael knew it was a pretty big deal, and would likely involve ridiculous costumes and sets. It was Gavin’s first major job since their relationship had started and his image had revamped- so Michael knew that a lot was riding on his performance.

He managed to slink into the shoot fairly unnoticed, security nodding him in with a friendly smile. A few run-around interns or set dressers recognised him- that was obvious by the quirk of the eyebrow, the curl of a smile or a whisper of _that’s his boyfriend_ in each-other’s ears as Michael passed. He didn’t mind so much- the whole point of this ‘surprise’ visit, which Gavin had been texting him about _all night_ ( _Are you sure we can’t sneak a quickie in the dressing room? I’ll even blow you if you promise not to smudge my makeup.)_ was to be spotted. Hopefully, one of the interns didn’t give a fuck about loyalty, and would gladly sell the story to a tabloid for a few hundred bucks.

The bouquet of daisies (Lindsay’s idea) bounced in Michael’s arms as he followed the directions down the corridor to Gavin’s dressing room. There wasn’t a gold star- just a strip of printed paper that read _Free, Gavin_ in black font cello taped to the door. From inside, he could hear the chatter of voices- most predominantly Gavin’s- so with confidence Michael knocked loudly, readjusted his posture and put on his best smile.

The door opened, Gavin doing a damn job at looking unimpressed at the interruption until his eyes _just fell_ on his _boyfriend_ , stood at the door with roses and a grin. Then, he flung the door open so everyone could see, as he all but leapt into Michael’s arms and kissed him excitedly on the lips. Gavin clung to Michael like a squirrel monkey, hugging him tightly after their intimate kiss and leaning in close to whisper in his ear: “ _How’d I do_?”

Michael laughed, hugging him back even tighter. “Could’a fooled me.” he replied, whispering. Gavin withdrew from their embrace with a knowing grin, taking the flowers into his hands and proceeded to gush falsely about how _lovely_ they were and how _lovely_ Michael was to a gaggle of cooing assistants and make-up artists.

“Here, Shaz- go and put these in some water for me?” Gavin handed the flowers off to a random girl, before waving his hand dismissively at the rest of the group. “And you lot, scram. Let me and Michael have a minute, yeah?”

The gaggle of women all shot knowing, smirking looks at each other before shuffling out of the dressing room, the final assistant clinging onto the over-priced flowers and promising with a grin that she would bring a vase in. Once they were all gone, Gavin collapsed back into the pop up chair he’d even sitting on and peeled off the silky robe he’d been wearing.

Michael blushed, realising that now he was standing awkwardly by the door, fully clothed, and Gavin was lounging around in nothing but tight fitting white boxers. He was completely relaxed, leant back in the chair with his head hanging over the edge. “Michael, love,” he mumbled, waving his hand vaguely in the direction of the dressing table. “Get me a fag, would you?”

Michael picked up the box of expensive looking cigarettes. He slipped one out, lit it between his lips and then handed it over to Gavin. Smoke floated above their heads, and dissipated around the ceiling.

“Photoshoots. What a _drag_.” Gavin groaned, sitting back up. After a few more drags, he rested his cigarette in the already-full ashtray that sat on his dressing table amongst various make-up products and half-drunk mugs of what must’ve been _tea_. “Don’t fancy sneaking out the back or anything exciting, do you?” he joked. Michael smiled.

“Nah, think Lindsay would kill us.”

Gavin smiled, standing up from the chair. With the robe completely slipped from his body, he hardly seemed to care at all- confidently striding over to Michael and wrapping his arms around the other’s shoulders loosely. Gavin was only an inch or so taller than Michael, but barefoot and slouching, Michael found himself having to look down, for once.

“Honestly. It’s so boring. You’re lucky you don’t have to do all of this nonsense too often.” Gavin continued to ramble, unaware of how much Michael’s heart rate had increased from their sudden change in proximity. He wasn’t even listening to Gavin anymore- eyes fixated on his chapped lips and the way they moved at he spoke, one hand absentmindedly stroking through the hair at the back of Michael’s neck. He quite liked the feeling, and hoped Gavin wouldn’t stop. Michael had to admit that he did quite like it when Gavin found excuses to touch him- because the asshole was always pretty warm and soft and his bony fingers could be profoundly gentle. The slightest scratch of a fingernail at the back of Michael’s head was heavenly- and _Gavin_ himself was heavenly too. He smelled so _good_ , probably scrubbed within an inch of his life by all his assistants and doused in aftershave- but Michael found it intoxicating. He hadn’t even realised how much closer (if that was even _possible_ ) he had grown as Gavin was speaking. Still, he said nothing.

“What is it?” Gavin asked quietly, as Michael leant forwards and their foreheads touched gently. “Michael. You okay?” trying to lighten the situation, Gavin crossed his eyes and poked his tongue out. Michael didn’t laugh.

He didn’t say anything at all. Instead, he tilted his head forwards and pressed his lips against Gavin’s without thinking. Gavin responded immediately- it was just always so natural when they kissed each other- and the model extended to his full height, curving his mostly-naked body almost completely into Michael’s as their lips slotted against each other slowly, Michael’s hands growing tighter around Gavin’s waist. He couldn’t help himself- Gavin was making all these _noises_ , panting and breathless and it was making him loose his mind. All of Gavin’s silly offers, banging in the back of their rented car or against the door of his dressing room- it was all fantasy, right? Gavin wasn’t serious?

Michael wasn’t kissing him without the cameras?

The door burst open, and a squeak drew them away from each other. Gavin’s assistant, Shaz, a small Irish girl with black glasses and a meek smile held the full vase of flowers in her arms and wore a deep blush on her cheeks.

“Uh- sorry.” She said. “I didn’t mean to- I should’ve knocked or… sorry.”

Gavin looked at Michael. Michael looked away.

“It’s fine!” Gavin laughed, taking the vase in his arms and setting it down on the table. Immediately, Michael watched as he turned into _Gavin Free_ \- the celebrity, throwing an arm around Michael’s shoulder affectionately and resting his head on his shoulder. “I mean, c’mon. How can I resist him?”

“He is pretty dreamy.” Shaz agreed with an awkward grin. Michael blushed. “I’ll get out of your way- but they’re gonna be calling you on set soon to get dressed, so you better get your ass in gear.”

“Give me five minutes.” Gavin winked, before closing the door slowly in her face. Once she was gone, he rested against it with his hands behind his back, and sighed, a faint laugh escaping his lips. “Bloody hell.” He laughed, knocking his head back against the door. “Nice thinking there Michael. I forgot she was even coming back.”

“Huh?”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “Good plan, donut.” He said, pushing past Michael to pick up his cigarette and take a few quick pulls before stubbing it out in the glass ashtray. “You know- getting Shaz to walk in on us. She’ll do almost anything for a quick buck- I’ve used her for months but I’m pretty sure she’d sell me out in a heartbeat. It’ll make a nice story actually.”

“Right.” Michael nodded, but his stomach felt uneasy. He hadn’t given _Shaz_ a second thought when he’d leaned in to kiss Gavin. It wasn’t for any fucking _story_. It was real. “A nice story.” He repeated regardless, shaking his head slightly and rubbing his hair. “Glad I could be of service. I’ll get out your hair, you’ve probably got work to do- right?”

“Right.” Gavin nodded. Michael turned around to look at him one last time, leant against the dressing table with his cigarette dangling between his lips. He smiled. He didn’t look happy. Michael turned back towards the door, and without another word, he left and went straight home.

0000000000000000000000

 

Michael had never been to a fashion runway show before.

Honestly, he didn’t see the appeal- and if it hadn’t been mandatory in his and Gavin’s long list of ridiculously over-exaggerated publicity stunts, he wouldn’t be the first in line for a ticket. So far, it had been boring. A bunch of snooty ‘fashion’ people had glared at outfits and made snide whispered comments as music blared.

Michael had even been _treated_ (or at least, that was how Lindsay described it) to sit front row. That was all well and good, giving him a great view of clothes he didn’t understand nor want to wear, but it didn’t help that he was front and centre in the middle of the _snootiest_ of the snooty. Every person around him was worthy of a punch in the face.

Still, Michael held his tongue and remembered what he was there for.

Gavin.

Things had been odd between them in the week since the kiss. Gavin had been pretty busy with more photoshoots, so they hadn’t had much contact. They still texted more or less every day, but whereas before, Michael hardly gave a second thought to the shit he and Gavin talked, now he was analysing every message for a minute before sending. Suddenly, for some reason, he actually _gave a shit_ what the asshole thought of him.

All because of a stupid kiss. Like he and Gavin hadn’t done that a thousand times _already_.

“Ladies and Gentleman, this next collection is something of a passion project of mine-”

The short, long haired old guy who’d been hosting the show in his name was stood front and centre now, talking them through his next line. Michael sat up a little as he spoke, knowing that this was the prime time for him to be papped. Gavin’s line was next- his name was in the programme, top billing ahead of the rest of the male models. For some reason, this wrinkly old fuck had chosen Gavin as his muse for the whole collection. Knowing Gavin as well as he did, Michael could hazard a few sordid guesses.

Music blared, and first out- Gavin appeared. Michael let the smile he’d been holding back all day blossom across his face. Yeah, he had to give it to the old guy. Gavin looked pretty good in the sand-coloured tailored shorts that hung above his knees, leather brown belt sitting around his hips underneath the open, Hawaiian shirt that bared his tanned, hairy chest. Gavin wasn’t giving his best blue steel like the overly-chiselled army of clones that followed him. He actually seemed to be enjoying himself! One hand was tucked lazily into the pocket of his shorts, and a vague smirk spread across his lips. He made eye contact with the audience, winked at a few as he posed for the camera, and then, on his turn, caught eyes with Michael.

Then, he _grinned_.

Michael could feel the camera flashes intensify every moment Gavin was on stage- not just at the main event, but at him too, sat in the audience. He didn’t need to a fake a happy reaction however. Just _seeing_ Gavin, carefree and playful as he skipped off the runway and disappeared into a sea of models, had brightened his day completely. Suddenly, the runway show wasn’t such horseshit after all.

Suddenly, Michael was enjoying himself.

00000000000000

After the show, he had to hang around outside Gavin’s dressing room whilst he got changed and prepared himself for their exit. There was hundreds of paparazzi outside the building, and their flashing cameras could be heard even from inside. Michael had received a text from their regular driver, Lionel, that the car was waiting for them outside, directly at the end of the pavement.

“C’mon Gav.” He banged on the door to the dressing room, impatient yet smiling. There were still hundreds of stagehands and assistants milling around the corridors. That meant more people to fool. “What are you fucking doing in there, powdering your nose?”

Michael heard a vague sniffing from inside, and rolled his eyes. Oh. Maybe Gavin was _powdering_ his nose, just without the makeup.

“Something like that, yeah.” Gavin emerged from the room, wiping the underside of his nose with the edge of his shirtsleeve. Michael reached up to his face, and dusted a bit of _whatever_ it was Gavin was sniffing off the corner of his lip. In return, Gavin smiled, drowsily, and leant forwards to kiss Michael softly on the lips. “Come on then, let’s get out of here.” He reached down and pulled Michael by the hand, walking briskly to the exit.

Usually, Gavin loved to play around with paparazzi, posing for ridiculous photos and answering questions hurled at him, but instead he rushed- dragging Michael along behind him and all but threw him into the car, leaving the paparazzi with a vague wave. The line of all-black SUV’s trying to leave the event was ongoing and never-ending, so the car didn’t move anywhere and didn’t look like it was going to, anytime soon. The hollering of the paps became muted as Michael closed the car door behind them with a dull thump.

“Hello Mr Jones, Mr Free. Did you guys have a good evening?” Lionel said from the front. Michael smiled, trying to ignore how concerning Gavin’s skittish behaviour was. “Yeah, it was great.” He replied coolly as Gavin absentmindedly looked away, staring into the tinted windows. “Gav was amazing.” He reached over and touched his fake-boyfriend’s hand gently. Gavin flinched in surprise, and looked over at him “You were awesome.” Michael said, softly. “I’m like… proud of you and shit.”

Gavin gave him a tiny smile in response. “Uh, thanks Michael.” He replied, pulling his hand away so they were no longer touching. Then, before Michael had the chance to say anything else genuine, Gavin wound down the tinted window, inviting in a slurry of bright flashes and hurled questions. Gavin hung his head out with a medicated smile, whilst Michael hung back in the darkness of the car seat.

The moment, it seemed, was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a long one! Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Questions etc very very appreciated!


	4. Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No celebrity relationship is complete without obviously staged photo's of them frolicking around a beach together. Michael and Gavin do, however, take it to a new level.

Chapter Four: Vacation

 

 

 

“There’s my favourite client.” Lindsay beamed at him as he strolled into the meeting room, sitting down with his coffee, ready and awaiting across from her at the large table. Michael had received the call only a few hours ago that Lindsay wanted to see him, but Gavin wasn’t responding to any of his texts so he figured coming into work was the best use of his time. “Just gotta run a few things by you.” Lindsay told him, rifling through a few sheets of paper.

“Lay it on me.”

“Right, so- people are loving the whole Michael-and-Gavin thing, so you can’t ‘break-up’ any time soon.”

“Fine by me.”

“I know.” She shot him a knowing smirk, which he elected to ignore. “So, just keep on with more of the same between you. Don’t give any signals off that could be interpreted as the relationship being in jeopardy. Be as lovey-dovey as possible- if not _more_ than you already are. Also, second thing,” she closed her giant, swelling folder and folded her arms over the table, grinning at him. “I’ve talked to Ryan and swindled some time off for Gavin, so the two of you can go on a couple’s vacation.” She sounded borderline ecstatic, fanning her hands out into little excited sparks.

“Vacation?” Michael raised his eyebrows. Lindsay nodded.

“All expenses paid, of course. I was thinking the Bahamas. Gavin loves the beach and Geoff’s got a place out there.” She rattled off, Michael leaning forwards to listen more intently. “So, you fly out next week Friday and you’re away for five days. The paparazzi are going to conveniently know you’re there too, so make sure you’re extra flirty with each other at the private beach by your villa, because that where they’ll be hiding. And, most importantly, try not to strangle Gavin if he gets too annoying? Ryan will murder me if he comes home with bruises on his neck.”

“I won’t choke him.” Michael laughed. “Gavin and I have been getting on surprisingly well, actually.”

And it was true. Despite the awkward moment they’d shared after the fashion show, Michael had been getting on with Gavin better and better. Their friendship, which was half-assed before, had begun to blossom to the point where he looked forwards to spending time with Gavin, staged or not. Still there were nights when they really did just _hang out_ together in private to play video games and get drunk- and if the paparazzi got hold of a few snaps of a hungover Gavin or a sleepy Michael leaving the other’s home in the morning… well, that was just a win-win for everyone.

So Michael had no qualms about the vacation. After hearing the news, Gavin was ridiculously excited, and Michael ended up with thirty- eight consecutive snapchat videos as his ‘boyfriend’ routed through his ridiculously large wardrobe in a quest to find the most ‘perfect’ aeroplane outfit.

Gavin’s efforts didn’t go unnoticed, however. Their first night in the Bahamas, staying in the beautiful villa that belonged to none other than Mr Ramsey himself, Michael checked the gossip on TMZ and noted a few photos of them papped at the airport, holding hands and wheeling large suitcases behind them. The main focus of the article was Gavin’s garish, bright purple _People-Like-Grapes_ t-shirt paired with ridiculously overpriced Armani sweatpants.

“Look Gav,” he teased as they settled down for their first meal out. The restaurant was beautiful, tranquil and peaceful- if you could ignore the vague sounds of cameras clicking from the bushes. “You’re a fashion icon!”

“Damn straight.” Gavin sipped his drink- a bitter gin and tonic that was for some reason priced at _forty_ dollars. Michael grimaced as he watched the clear liquid disappear, and sipped his beer. “They make my arse look _fantastic_.”

“Whatever.” he rolled his eyes, but a smile lingered on his face. Under the table, he felt the toe of Gavin’s sneaker trail up his leg. “Fuck off. Stop playing footsie with me.”

“But _Michael_.” Gavin whined, his foot tracing higher, more towards Michael’s knee. “This is a _couple’s_ vacation. We’re supposed to be _flirting_.”

“The paparazzi are pretty sneaky- but I don’t think they’ve got X-Ray fucking cameras that can see under the table cloth, asshole.”

Gavin shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and smiled, but his foot fell from Michael’s leg. “Worth a shot.” He muttered. Michael pretended not to hear him.

“Are we at the beach tomorrow?” Gavin asked once their food had been served, an apparently traditional dish that came on a large platter, complete with “tropical” dancers who briefly surrounded their table. Gavin loved it, and tipped two hundred dollar bills. Michael rolled his eyes at the extravagance.

“Think so.”

Gavin loved the beach, apparently. He had mentioned it fairly casually during their dinner but Michael was treated to the full extent of Gavin’s adoration when they were walking through the sand the following morning.

“Look at the bloody _sea_ Michael!” His eyes lit up and the reflection of the sun made them sparkle beautifully. “It’s so _blue_. Honestly, you should see the beaches back in England, they’re _shite_. All… ugly cobblestones and grey water full of old shopping trolleys and rubbish. But this…” he faded off, approaching the shore gently so that the waves brushed over his toes. “This is _brilliant_.”

He turned then, looking back at Michael with the happiest smile either of them had shared. Michael’s body moved without command, and he approached Gavin gently, settling his hand on the small of his back.

“Are there cameras?” Gavin asked. Michael shrugged, not bothering to glance back.

“Probably. Maybe.”

Gavin grinned, and turned sideways to wrap his arms around Michael’s shoulders, wrists crossing over his pale back. “Guess we better put on a show then.”

The sea was beautiful, Michael had to admit. It was an impossibly light shade of blue, beautifully clear and genuinely warm. Michael didn’t feel his entire body shrink up as the water lapped at his midriff. Gavin did though, when Michael lifted him over his head and tossed him in head first.

“I hate you!” Gavin giggled, spluttering as he shook water from his hair like an excitable puppy. In return, Michael just reached forwards and grabbed him by the waist so the two were hip-to-hip. They hadn’t ventured out deep enough where they couldn’t stand, knowing it would probably be useless for the cameras. Instead, they’d stayed around hip level so when Michael pulled Gavin towards him, most of their bodies were exposed. That meant, every single strip of Gavin’s golden glowing skin was pressed against his.

Michael couldn’t pretend he didn’t like it.

“Aw _baby_.” He cooed, making the model glare. “I love you _too_. Give daddy some _sugar_.”

“I am _never_ calling you daddy!” Gavin laughed, but accepted the kiss that was planted on him gratefully, arms wrapping around Michael’s back graciously. “Now,” he said once they pulled away, foreheads resting together. “I bet I can hold my breath the longest!”

Michael grinned. “You’re on!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They spent hours in the ocean. They did have a few “romantic” moments for the benefits of the poor photographer who’d been hired to trail their sorry asses, but Michael found that for the most part, he forgot the dude was even there. He and Gavin had a perfectly good time on their own without the pressure of trying to be a _couple_. They dicked about, he pushed Gavin over. Gavin climbed on his back and tried to pull him under like a deadly mermaid. He pushed Gavin over again.

By the time they did make it out of the ocean, Gavin was whinging- complaining that a particularly sharp shell had caught his foot after Michael’s last shove. Michael was going to snap at him, saying he was full of shit, but when he looked down he spied a few drops of blood staining the white sand. So, sighing, he stooped down and allowed Gavin to hop onto his back.

“My hero!” his “boyfriend” giggled, wrapping his arms around Michael’s shoulders tightly. “The press will _love_ this one.”

“You’re lucky you weigh like, a hundred pounds.” Michael rolled his eyes, walking them back up to the Villa. Once inside, he dropped Gavin ungraciously on the sofa and left him whinging to fish about in the bathroom for a first aid kit. He found one fairly quickly, and after a fair amount of wriggling, managed to grab Gavin by the ankle and make him stay still.

“This is going to sting.” He warned, ripping the packaged antiseptic wipe open. Gavin closed his eyes tightly, and Michael huffed a laugh. “Don’t be a bitch.” He said, pushing the wipe against the wound. Gavin’s body tensed beside him.

“Ow, ow, _ow_ , bloody hell- alright Michael! Jesus, that _hurts_!”

Michael smirked, tossing the wipe aside. “You fucking baby. If you can take it up the ass, you should be able to take a tiny antiseptic wipe.” He joked, before pressing a plaster against the shallow cut. once Gavin’s life-endangering injury had been taken care of, he too sat on the sofa. Gavin rested his ‘injured’ foot in Michael’s lap.

“Kiss is better?” he asked, batting his eyelashes. Michael glared at him.

“No fucking _way_.”

“But _Michael-”_

“Don’t fucking _BUT MICOOL_ me, asshole.” Michael laughed. “I’m not kissing your fucking foot. You’re not even injured! It was like, a papercut at _most_.” He rubbed Gavin’s ankle, surprisingly gentle. “You’re such an asshole.” He hummed.

Sighing, Gavin sat up. He had somehow managed to swing both his legs over Michael’s lap without him noticing- and only when Gavin was sat upright did he realise how close they were. It was easy really, to settled one hand just sort-of at Gavin’s waist as they settled into a gentle almost-embrace.

“You were right.” Gavin yawned, after a few silent minutes. “Antiseptic wasn’t really that bad. Taking it up the ass for the first time was _way_ more painful.”

“Tell me about it.” Michael scoffed. “First guy I ever let fuck me had like, an eight-inch dick. I thought I was gonna die!”

“First guy I let fuck me was twenty-five and I was sixteen!” Gavin laughed. “And it was in the back of his car. And he didn’t have any lube, so he used spit and… _come_ , eugh.” He gagged behind his hand. “It was gross. Felt _wicked_ after a bit but was overall, gross.”

“What kind of moron doesn’t keep lube in his wallet?” Michael asked. Gavin scoffed.

“The kind of moron that sleeps with sixteen-year-old kids because he can’t get guys his own age.” He replied, and Michael tensed slightly. He could imagine Gavin at sixteen. Brainy, but clueless. Vulnerable. Easily led. He didn’t like the thought. “Still,” Gavin yawned, louder this time. “He was fit.”

“Still an asshole by the sounds of it.” Michael mumbled. Gavin smiled sweetly.

“You a prepared kind of man then, Michael Jones?” he asked teasingly. “Always carry lube everywhere you go?” Michael nodded, and puffed his chest out slightly.

“Of course.” He grinned, smugly. “I pride myself on preparation, Gavin. Foreplay’s half the fun, after all.”

“I second that.” Gavin nuzzled his shoulder slightly, and it made Michael feel strangely warm inside. He was aware of Gavin’s hand too- which had moved slowly from his chest down to his abdomen. Gavin was hovering dangerously close to crotch-territory, which was a little nerve-wracking. All that talk about fucking hadn’t gotten him _hard_ , but there was _something_ going on down there for sure as Gavin squirmed, pushing so he was further in Michael’s lap.

The exact moment Michael’s morals flew out of the window was the second Gavin’s surprisingly not-bony ass brushed against his lap.

“Hey. Is that whole… banging for real offer still like, on the table?” he asked, sounding far more nervous than he’d intended. Gavin lifted his head, so they were staring directly at each other. Then, thankfully, he grinned.

“You know, Michael… I was thinking you’d _never fucking ask_.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

On the second-to-last day of their vacation, Michael received the dreaded phone call from Lindsay.

He knew he’d been a bad client. He hadn’t followed instructions; he’d ignored her texts and avoided her phone calls. Gavin had shut his phone completely off so that Ryan couldn’t reach him short of getting on a plane and showing up at the villa himself, which Gavin insisted he wouldn’t. Michael was unsure. Ryan was a pretty unpredictable guy- so he couldn’t put it past him.

Gavin was in the shower, so Michael sighed to himself and reached over to the nightstand, picking his phone up. “Hey… Linds.” He mumbled, trying to stay casual as he pressed the phone to his ear.

“Where the _fuck_ have you been?”

Michael allowed his eyes to fall closed as Lindsay went off into her rant. To be honest, he couldn’t blame her. Everything she was yelling about was the truth- he and Gavin hadn’t been to _any_ more of the pre-arranged outings, they hadn’t frolicked with the locals for photo-ops or rolled around in the sand together on the beach, as promised. Since the first day- they’d been complete ghosts on the beautiful island. They even got their food _delivered_.

All because of one thing. But he couldn’t tell Lindsay that.

He’d rehearsed it previously in his head, wondering if there was any way to sugar coat: “Hey Lindsay, sorry Gavin and I haven’t done anything we said we would to look like a good couple. We’ve actually been too busy fucking over every single inch of this house to care. Thanks again for sending us out here for free!”

Clearly, there wasn’t. So, Michael absorbed Lindsay’s rant, apologised, and promised he and Gavin would be extra couple-y and go out for dinner, as it was their last night. Then, he shut the phone off, just as Gavin wandered into the room, towel wrapped low around his waist.

“Was she mad?” he asked. Michael scratched at his bare chest and nodded.

“Yup.” He said. “She was pretty mad.”

“Oh well.” Gavin shrugged, letting the towel drop as he climbed onto the bed, completely naked. It was the third bed they’d set up home in- as the rest of the bedrooms in the villa had been completely desecrated. Along with both showers, the kitchen and the living room couch. And the upstairs balcony. And the pool. Turned out- Gavin really _could_ hold his breath for longer. “Let her be mad.” He smiled, resting his chin on Michael’s shoulder.

Michael smiled. “Yeah.” He said. “Besides, I don’t think the paparazzi having pictures of anything _we’ve_ been getting up to this weekend would be beneficial to our _images_.”

“You say that, I still think it’s worth the risk for sex on the beach.” Gavin cocked an eyebrow and grinned. Michael simply rolled his eyes in response. Apparently, so he’d learnt, Gavin was far too used to getting his own way.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You know,” Ray looked up at him over the edge of the trashy gossip magazine, glaring lazily. “When I said bang him I meant do it once to get it out of your systems. Not _continue_ banging him and make some semi-professional softcore porn whilst you’re at it.” He turned the magazine around and Michael looked away, but the blush on his face lit up his cheeks when he caught sight of the photo. Gavin really _was_ far too used to getting his own way- and Michael couldn’t exactly say _no_ when Gavin took him by the hand and dragged him onto a four-poster sunbed on the empty beach and drew the white curtains around them.

It was obviously a bad idea- but Michael couldn’t say no once Gavin was bouncing in his lap and gripping his shoulders tight enough to leave marks. He’d insisted the curtains would protect them from prying eyes- but the sun was bright and shone through the curtains, making shadows of their silhouettes more than clear to the photographer ten or so metres away.

“Please tell me this was just a dumb publicity stunt and you’re not actually fucking Gavin Free?” Ray huffed. Michael shrugged.

“Look- before you even start, it’s _just casual_.”

“Casual my ass!” Ray snapped, tossing the magazine back onto the coffee table. “Dude, you’re getting in way too deep. It can only go wrong.”

“What like you and your precious _Ryan_?” Michael glared. “Just ‘cause you’re in love with your fuckbuddy doesn’t mean I’m gonna immediately fall for mine.”

A silence fell between the two, and Michael found himself regretting the words the moment they escaped his lips. It was a low blow, and it had hit Ray right where it hurt. His best friend slumped back in the armchair, picked up his Xbox controller and focused his attention back onto the TV.

“Ray-” he started attempting an apology, but was interrupted by his phone ringing. He looked down at it. _Gavin Free._ “-Shit, look I gotta go. Gavin’s calling.”

Ray scoffed. “Good luck.”

Michael did his best not to feel guilty as he walked out of Ray’s apartment, Gavin’s idiotic babbling being an easy temporary distraction.


	5. Industry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lindsay has some news for Michael.

Chapter Five: Industry

 

 

Despite what Ray said- Michael found it far more enjoyable “dating” Gavin now he could _actually_ bang him. They had always had fun together in the beginning, but now that sex was part of the equation, Michael found himself at Gavin’s beck and call constantly. Lindsay and Ryan seemed happy enough, although suspicious (Michael guessed that Ray had probably let their little secret slip as part of his entirely justified revenge) because the more time they spent together, the more they were papped. They were topping the list of every website and gossip columnists “best couples” lists for a few weeks or so, and after that, earned enough of a status to fade into the background of celebrity culture. They were still papped wandering to and from each other’s apartments or on red carpets for fancy events, but it was far less direct and intense. People had just _accepted_ their relationship, and the initial buzz had faded into an every-day hum.

Michael loved it. He didn’t have to shrug on a giant hoodie, beanie and sunglasses to conceal himself when he found himself in the position of Gavin’s bootycall at any hour of the night. He didn’t mind the arrangement so much, because after sex Gavin was always down to smoke a joint or something harder, depending on his mood. Michael liked it because getting high with Gavin was _fun_. The stupid Brit would fade off with a dazed smile and glassy eyes, mumbling nonsensical hypothetical questions. His favourite drug of choice to do with Gavin as of recent was anything hallucinogenic- because every time he looked over at Gavin he’d see pure stardust.

“Told you it wouldn’t get complicated.” He told Ray smugly over the phone. His best friend had eventually forgiven him for his angry outburst, and the tension between them was no longer there. On top of that, Michael saw more and more of Ryan every time he went near Ray’s apartment. Something between them had changed, but he couldn’t yet put his finger on what. Not that he had much time to think, with his and Gavin’s new dynamic. “Gavin and I are still great. It’s been two months. We dropped acid together the other night. Shit was _crazy_.”

“You do realise you’re in love with him?” Had been Ray’s response, and for a second, Michael’s heart stopped. He shook his head and shoulders, brushing the remark off. Then, after a few seconds, a well-rehearsed scoff trickled down the line. “Sure Ray.” He said. “Keep dreaming.”

Michael refused to even entertain the idea that he was in love with Gavin. He didn’t need the complication of amorous feeling to enjoy Gavin’s company- their relationship was exhilarating enough as it was. Michael wasn’t sure if he could take much more excitement- it was _perfect_ the way it was _,_ in Michael’s eyes. However, life often has a way of shattering perfect arrangements. He should’ve really seen it coming, but for some reason, was blinded.

Michael felt the first crack split when his phone began to ring on a Sunday afternoon.

 “Hey bud.” Lindsay said, but she didn’t sound happy. Over the last month or so, she’d been cheerful as ever with their performance, and excited every time she spoke to him, arranging his and Gavin’s next outing. Gavin was away at that present time, staying in New York city for the week whilst he worked a fashion show. He’d originally wanted Michael to go with him, but things hadn’t worked out. Michael had to stay in LA and do some work for the pre-production for the movie he was about to star in. It was his first leading role in a major motion picture. When the call came through from Lindsay saying he’d gotten it, Gavin had been so overjoyed. Michael had never seen someone else be so happy for him.

“What’s up Lindsay?”

“You’re gonna hate me.”

Michael frowned. “What? Why?”

Lindsay sighed, deeply. “Look, don’t shoot the messenger that’s all I’m saying. Are you sitting down?”

“Is this about the movie?”

She paused. “Sort of.” He heard papers shuffling, fingers drumming against the edge of the desk. Lindsay’s tell. She was nervous. “Look, Michael… Achievement Hunter are very satisfied with your image change since your relationship with Gavin. They really think the last six months have been beneficial to you both.”

 _Six months_. Michael thought to himself. _Where the fuck had the time gone?_

“Right.” He nodded. “So what? What’s the problem?”

“Problem is, your role… your new movie Michael, you’re playing the broken-hearted cop gone wild. A break up… right now as the details of the plot are being strategically leaked… it’s too perfect to pass up. They want you and Gavin to end things. Somewhat publicly. I’ve already been given information to leak- I just… I just needed to tell you.”

For a long time, Michael was silent. Lindsay was silent too, but the phone line remained open. Michael slumped back against the couch cushions and ran his hands over his face. He didn’t want to break up with Gavin- and that’s what worried him. Ray’s words had been playing on his mind for months, and the stab in the gut with Gavin’s name on the blade began to twist. He didn’t want to break up with Gavin, but that didn’t make any sense. He and Gavin were never together in the first place.

“Right… yeah.” He mumbled.

“Michael look, I’m sorry-”

“-Don’t be.” Michael interrupted. “I mean… it’s not like Gavin and I are even together for real. Do the break up thing.” Despite his intentions, the words sound forced as they were expelled from his lips. They didn’t feel true, but that didn’t matter. The truth had never seemed to matter much to Gavin, anyway. “Go ahead, I… I understand. Completely.”

“Sure thing Michael.” Lindsay mumbled. Still, she sounded sad. “I’ll get on it. I’m sure Ryan’s already told Gavin all about it. It’s for the best.”

“For the best.” Michael echoed her statement, emptily. Then, the call disconnected and he let his phone fall from his hands. It vibrated quietly, a text alert from Gavin popping on the screen. Michael ignored it.

He wouldn’t know what to say, anyway. How were they supposed to continue whatever it was they were doing after a public ‘break-up’? Sneak around each other’s apartments in disguise?

It wouldn’t work. They’d more than likely end up caught. The press had a sneaky sixth sense for foul play, and Michael didn’t want to provoke them any more than he and Gavin already had. Plus, there was Lindsay. He didn’t want to jeopardize her job- not after she’d done so much for him.

Plus, how much shelf life did his and Gavin’s ‘relationship’ even have? A few more months of fucking- at a push. Gavin would probably get bored after that. He wasn’t looking long-term when he saw Michael. He was looking at a way to make the whole charade a little more bearable, and Michael could understand that. Yeah, he’d ended up liking Gavin a lot more than he thought he would, but so what? They weren’t _in love_ , so what did it matter? Gavin would find someone else to fuck. Michael would have to figure things out from there.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Lindsay was so fucking good at her job. Within days, every time Michael opened his twitter he was bombarded with concerned tweets by fans and promoted articles by online news outlets.

_Splits-Ville for Michael and Gavin? Trouble in paradise for everyone’s favourite hot new couple? Hollywood Heartbreak? Here’s what we know about those cheating rumours:_

Somehow, she had managed to send different information to each source, masterfully so as none of it was ever traced back to her. One outlet thought Gavin had cheated with a hot male pianist playing with the New York Philharmonic and the other reported that Michael had been caught in a compromising position with his new female co-star at an audition, a leggy blonde actress named _Barbara Dunkelman._ Other’s thought that Michael wanted to ‘settle down’ rather than try to keep up with Gavin’s fast paced lifestyle. Some reported that Gavin was getting bored of Michael’s hum-drum boy-next-door routine.

Gavin was away in New York preparing for the catwalk at the new Hugo Boss launch. It was a huge job for him- the biggest he’d been booked since their relationship started. Michael was thankful Gavin wasn’t in LA; because at least he didn’t have to face is ‘boyfriend’ in person. After some deep thinking, he’d come to the conclusion that Gavin had probably known for weeks about their supposed _break-up_ and that made him increasingly angry with every passing day. Gavin had continued texting him as normal, but Michael had ignored them all as more and more details leaked of their supposed “rocky patch.” Michael wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold his anger back when met with Gavin’s ridiculous smug smile in person, let alone do it over facetime.

He tried to keep reminding himself that they were never together, so he shouldn’t be angry. Why did it matter? It didn’t. That was the simple answer he gave himself every time he felt the rage come close to boiling point. Every time, he’d pick up the phone, prepared to call Gavin’s number and “have a go” as the Brit would put it. Every time, he’d stop himself.

The day of the show, Michael’s phone began to ring. He’d successfully continued his avoidance of all contact, but this was the first time the model had actually bothered to physically pick up the phone and call him. Michael glanced at the clock. In New York, it was six PM. Gavin must’ve been backstage- preparing for the show by now. It had been a week since the rumours began. A week since they’d spoken.

“Hello?” he answered, trying his best to sound annoyed.

“Michael!” Gavin beat him too it. “I’ve been texting you for days, you fucking dickhead!” Michael winced as his shrill voice vibrated through the phone speaker. Why was Gavin making such a spectacle anyway? Was this just part of the act? Michael could imagine the fucking asshole, shouting and hollering in full view of everyone at the show, just so someone could hear and leak it. He supposed it would be a good nail in the coffin for their relationship. He could already picture the headlines. _Time to Call it Quits? Here’s what we make of these leaked photos of Gavin Free screaming at his apparent ex backstage at Hugo Boss AW16!_

 “What the bloody hell is going on? Why is the media full of articles saying we’re apparently breaking up?”

Michael stilled. Gavin was many things, but he wasn’t actually much of an idiot. He was ridiculously intelligent, a skilful liar and deceiver. Gavin could _act-_ Michael had seen it. Gavin had never once slipped up when they were together in public. “Wait- didn’t Ryan tell you?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Ryan?!” Gavin spluttered, sounding more and more realistically outraged. Michael started to wonder if it was an act- or if maybe, by chance, he was being genuine. “I blocked that dickhead’s number over a week ago. He was getting on my nerves. What’s happening? Why haven’t I been told anything? I’m about to walk a fucking catwalk in three hours but I can’t go more than twenty minutes without someone asking me about my bloody _relationship problems?_ What fucking relationship problems, Michael?”

“We’re breaking up!” Michael shouted back. “Lindsay told me a couple days ago, I thought you knew!?”

“Thought I _knew_?!” Gavin practically _screamed_ down the phone. “If I had known, don’t you think I would’ve _told you_ , you fucking _asshole_? Instead of just… letting you land in JFK surrounded by paparazzi asking how your relationships doing? I must’ve looked like such a dickhead, saying everything was _fine_. Then Shaz showed me the articles. Thanks for that Michael. Really fucking classy way to _dump_ me! I had to find out from fucking _E Online._ ”

“Why are you so mad?!” Michael demanded. He didn’t really feel so angry anymore, but it was easier than the other emotions swirling in his gut. Sadness. Regret. Hurt. But, regardless, he pushed them deep down. Those were feelings for another time, preferably far far in the future.  “This isn’t a breakup Gavin.” He struggled with the words, stuttering over the jumbled consonants. It was like his body was trying to physically hold him back from the verbal confirmation, but the rationale in his brain soldiered through. “We were never together.” He swallowed thickly. “Why do you even care?”

There was a long pause over the line. Eventually, after what felt like decades, Michael heard Gavin sigh.

“Fuck you Michael.” He said, quiet and tearful.

Then the phone hung up. Michael threw it across the room and listened to its satisfying smash.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_Wondering if those Mavin!Split rumours are true? Check out these exclusive backstage photos of Gavin Free engaged in a heated argument with his beau!_

Michael sighed as he flicked through the article. Photographs of Gavin in his (completely empty) dressing room, clearly taken through a crack in the door. He was stood up, screaming in what Michael had initially assumed was a charade. However, unless Gavin was a _really_ good actor, it was clear the emotion was real. The last photo was what hurt the most, Gavin with the phone laid abandoned on the table, tear tracks staining his face as he rubbed his hands through his hair.

He looked pretty perfect on the runway- but from the clips Michael had seen, he wasn’t having fun. His face was straight; his eyes were dead and dull. The suits fit his body like an expensive glove, but Gavin didn’t really _wear_ them. The suit wore him, and dragged his lifeless dead corpse up and down the strip.

Lindsay called but Michael rejected it. He already felt guilty enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY. See ya next week!


	6. Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin doesn't take the breakup well. It's up to Michael to save him.

Chapter Six: Break

 

 

The next time Michael saw Gavin’s face was two weeks later, when Lindsay threw a stack of glossy tabloid magazines onto the table in front of him. He flinched as they smacked against the wood, and Lindsay silently stood above him with her arms folded tightly and her frown powerfully potent.

“See what you did?” She asked, nodding at the covers. Plastered over them was Gavin in various states of disarray, various nights, various location. He hadn’t left New York since the fashion show, but he didn’t seem to be doing a whole lot of working. Instead, Gavin had been wobbling on the narrow line between a bender and a cry-for-help . “What the fuck Michael?” Lindsay’s voice was low, almost vibrating with anger she was doing her best to contain inside just one tightly gripped fist. Her hair was lifeless and dull. Her eyes were hard. Michael didn’t have to do much further investigation to conclude it had been a very difficult two weeks at Achievement Hunter. “When were you going to tell me that the two of you were fucking?”

“I thought you knew!” Michael sat back in his chair, frown pensive. So Ray hadn’t sold him out? Or did he and Ryan suddenly not spill each other’s secrets with reckless abandon and a lack of caring?

“Do you think I would’ve just gone through terminating your relationship instantly if I’d known?!” she exclaimed. “Of course I fucking wouldn’t- and this wouldn’t be happening.”

“Lindsay, I’m sorry-”

“Can you even fathom how much shit Ryan and I are in now, with Geoff? I could get fired, Michael. Rye’s already on thin ice because HR got wind of him and Ray’s relationship. We’re both fucked.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” Michael yelled back, merely because he supposed he could. It had been a while since he’d allowed himself to be angry. Whilst Gavin had been out getting high and stumbling through the streets, he’d been locked up in his apartment avoiding social media as guilt manifested in his gut like heavy weights. He hadn’t even considered being angry, until now. “Gavin will do what Gavin wants to fucking do. He’s a grown ass man! What makes you think I can stop him?”

“Because he loves you, Michael.” Lindsay’s voice was suddenly soft, and she sighed, sitting down on the table beside him. Michael scoffed, avoiding her gaze, instead fixating his eyes on a photo of Gavin, eyes bleary and pupils wide, face narrowed in confusion as he stumbled out of a club. “I’ve talked to Ray. He told me everything. I know you care about him a lot too and you don’t like seeing him like this.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Michael sighed. “Of course I don’t want this. But how am I supposed to stop it?”

“I’ve moved your first table read of Blue Lights back by two weeks. If I were you, I’d use that extra time to fly down to New York and maybe try and talk some sense into him.”

“So, what, I’m just supposed to uproot my entire life and fly for five hours, spend hundreds of dollars and for what- for Gavin Free?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Lindsay knew it too. She smiled, and rubbed his hair gently. “That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do when you love someone Michael. We both know that.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The second he landed at JFK, Michael whipped out his phone.

He knew Gavin probably wouldn’t be answering his calls or texts, and wouldn’t be expecting him in the city as the details of Michael’s trip had been kept specifically from the press. He was half disguised as he touched down on the runway, big black sunglasses, a beanie and a large hoodie disguising his signature freckles and curly hair. Walking out of the airport with his head down and one hand stuffed in his pocket, not a single soul recognised him.

His best bet at finding Gavin would probably be via social media. The model had put a few videos up on his snapchat showing he was in a club, but Michael couldn’t catch any details specifying which one. There were thousands in New York City, and not enough hours in the night to file through them all.

So instead, he went onto twitter and searched for Gavin’s name. He scrolled through a good fifty or so tweets from onlookers and well-wisher’s alike, each casting their own judgement and opinions on what they thought was wrong, what they thought was happening and what they thought was going through Gavin’s head. Michael just scoffed. As if anyone had ever been able to navigate their way through the subconscious of Gavin fucking Free.

Eventually, after a few minutes of scrolling, Michael found the tweet he was looking for.

Just seen @GavinFree order a shot of ciroc for every single person in the VIP area in @PARADISEHILLNY. What a guy!!

“Paradise Hill, New York City please.” He said to the driver, before digging through his bag and pulling out some clothes that would be more suitable for a trendy celebrity club than sweatpants and a beanie. He knew he’d have to forego his disguise to get in, but as far as he could see from their website, Paradise Hill’s entrance was packed out with security guards who’s main jobs were to keep the paparazzi out.

Michael ran a comb through his unruly mop of curls in a half-hearted attempt neaten it slightly. The over-sided, over-priced navy v-neck sweatshirt did it’s best to hide the creases on his white shirt, and the ripped black jeans Gavin had bought him and forced him to wear slipped onto his legs like a glove. His sneakers would do- celebrity clubs didn’t tend to force much of a strict dress code policy on their famous clients, and after a few spritzes of an expensive aftershave Lindsay had bought him for his last birthday, Michael was ready. The car slowed outside the club, and the driver unlocked the doors. Michael tossed his bag onto the backseat and left it behind, instructing the driver to wait outside for his return. He wouldn’t be long, he promised. There was only three steps to his plan, after all. Get in, get Gavin, get out.

Thankfully, there were no paparazzi outside the club, if you didn’t count the mile-long clue of hopeful guests, whispering to each other and pointing in his direction. Most of them recognised him for sure, but the bouncers didn’t catch on quite as quickly. One was glaring at him fiercely as he skipped the line and walked right up to the front doors until he took his sunglasses off. Then, his face lit up in surprise.

“Right this way Mr Jones.” He unclipped the velvet rope so that Michael could step by.

“Thanks.” He nodded at the bouncer. “Any idea where my moron of a boyfriend might be?”

“VIP section, right at the back of the club and on your left, Sir.”

Michael made his way through the club with purpose, bumping into people as he pushed through the crowd. Some laughed, yelling that Michael Jones just touched me! and other, drunker patrons glared or yelled obscenities in his direction. Michael barely heard them. The moment he laid his eyes on Gavin the rest of the room became a faint buzz of noise.

He was sat in a booth in the back of the VIP section, a few pretty girls and other male and female models Michael recognised sitting around him, talking to each other. But Michael was surprised to see that Gavin wasn’t talking, wasn’t even looking at any of them. Ever since Michael had known him, he’d been a creature of social habit. Gavin could make friends anywhere he went, and rarely went more than a few minutes without finding someone to talk excitedly too. Clearly, his two-week bender had taken its toll, because instead he was leant forwards, drawing neat white lines of some kind of powdered drug with his gold card, eyes vacant and unfocused. Michael cleared his throat and the group went silent. When Gavin looked up, he froze.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” he asked, hands shaking. Michael tucked his hands into his pockets.

“Saving your sorry ass from something you’ll regret. Get up. We’re leaving.”

In all honesty, Michael had expected a fight. Michael had expected Gavin to hurl abuse at him, physical or verbal. Michael was expecting a drink or two to be thrown into his face, or a lit cigarette burning a hole in his expensive jumper. He was expecting Gavin to be in denial, defiant, hurt, as he had every right to be. He was expecting not to give up until he’d hauled Gavin over his shoulder and physically carried him into a cab, because the car would’ve long left them behind .

He was not, however, expecting Gavin to quite calmly stand, climb up on the table and walk across it, drinks knocking over and voices protesting as he did, and then hopping down so he was stood toe to toe with Michael. He had the dusty residue of what Michael assumed was cocaine on the toe of his sneaker, and Michael vaguely heard a girl complain that he’d wasted it all. Gavin didn’t acknowledge her, didn’t smile, crack a joke or even tell Michael to fuck off. Instead, his bloodshot eyes peered around the venue behind Michael briefly, before he sniffed and nodded gently.

“Yeah.” Gavin’s voice was quiet and tearful, and the sound broke Michael’s heart all over again. “Let’s leave, please. I don’t want to be here.”

Gavin was silent the whole car journey to the hotel. He was crying, silently, staring out the window with tear-tracks staining his tanned cheeks. Michael sat in the seat beside him, but the space between them stretched on for miles. He wanted to reach across and rub Gavin’s back, touch his arm gently, kiss the tears from his cheeks. He wanted to say that everything was okay.

But it wasn’t.

They checked into the hotel, Michael tipping both the driver and the concierge greatly as they stared, clearly concerned for both their wellbeing. He threw his bag into the corner and followed Gavin over to the bed, where the model removed his shoes and his bright white Stone Island sweat shirt before flopping down, laid flat on his back with his hands clasped tightly over his chest. Michael followed suit, and laid beside him.

“You’re an asshole, Michael Jones.” Gavin said after a few minutes of silence. He didn’t even bother to look over. His eyes remained fixed on the ceiling.

“I know.” Michael said. “And I’m so sorry. I’m so, so fucking sorry for what I did to you. I fucked everything up, for everyone. We’re in shit, Lindsay’s in shit, Ryan’s in shit. I hurt Ray. I hurt Lindsay, and most of all, I hurt you Gav. I never wanted to do any of that.”

“I know it wasn’t your fault.” Gavin whispered, and a few more stray tears leaked from his eyes and welled in Michael’s own. “It wasn’t your decision to make, that’s down to the agency. But… when you just assumed that I already knew and didn’t give a shit about it or you… that’s what hurt me more than anything, Michael. You thinking just the same as all those assholes that pretend they know me. Thinking that I’m just some cold detached fucking loser, who doesn’t give a fuck about anyone else’s feelings except mine. When really, I always give a fuck. I really gave a fuck about you Michael.”

“I gave a fuck about you too Gavin.” Michael rolled over so he was laid on his side, and slowly, Gavin did the same. Michael reached over and wiped Gavin’s wet cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I just freaked out when Lindsay told me it was all over. Just like that, everything was done and… it freaked me out because I didn’t want it to be. I didn’t want to break up with you.”

Gavin frowned. “What do you mean? We were never together, were we? Just like you said.”

“Maybe we weren’t.” Michael shrugged. “But I know how I felt. How I still feel- I… I like you Gavin. I like you so fucking much it hurts. And seeing you like this, out of your mind every night on drugs in clubs, not talking to anyone… that kills me. Why’d you think I came here? I skipped my first table read for my first starring role to fly five and a half hours to come and get you. Because I care, and I know you care too.”

“I missed you Michael.” Gavin shifted forwards so that when he bowed his head, his forehead touched Michael’s chest. “I missed you much more than I thought I would. I’ve never really liked anyone I’ve had to be seen with for publicity, but I’ve liked you quite a lot.” He laughed softly, and Michael’s face lit up when he felt the vibration against his chest.

“Do you know why they wanted to break us up?” he asked with a quiet laugh. Gavin shook his head. “My new fucking movie. I play a broken-hearted cop. Someone thought it would be a good idea if my character reflected my real-life. So fucking stupid.”

“What are you gonna do then?” Gavin didn’t laugh, that time. He sat up, turned his head and face Michael with worry knitting his brow. “What does that mean for… me and you?”

“Gavin.” Michael sat up too, and held Gavin’s face in his hands. “I don’t give a fuck about the role if it means I can’t be with you. If they want to fucking drop me from the movie because I’m staying with you, then the movie’s fucking dumb and I don’t want to be in it. You’re way more important to me than a fucking movie.”

“You want to stay with me?” Gavin asked quietly. Michael nodded.

“Of course I want to stay with you Gavin.” He said, and it only occurred to him seconds later that it was the first time he had allowed those thoughts to be spoken aloud. He liked the sound of them. “I…” he hesitated for a second, but Gavin’s eyes were wide and hopeful and it made Michael’s heart lurch. “I like you, Gavin. Like, like-like.”

“Michael!” Gavin practically jumped forwards, pushing their lips together into a desperate kiss. Michael fell backwards on the bed from the force of it alone, and Gavin followed him down, shifting so he had a knee either side of Michael’s hips, slotting their bodies together perfectly. “I like you too.” He said between kisses. “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long how much I really, really like you Michael Jones.”

They spent the rest of the night like that, cuddled together under the bed sheets exchanging slow, quiet kisses and whispered declarations of feelings. For the first time since Gavin had left his side, Michael felt content. Ray had been right all along, of course, but it was worth the likely months of smug teasing to have Gavin in his arms, fragile and precious and doubting of himself and the world alike. Michael would do anything to make Gavin feel whole again, and that started tonight.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

By the next morning, the paparazzi had caught wind of them leaving the club together and checking into a hotel. Social Media was swarming with questions and rumours about a potential reconciling of the high profile couple. Michael and Gavin couldn’t hide their smug grins as they left the hotel hand in hand to be met by twenty of so photographers, roughly being pushed back by the hotel security guards so they could make their way through.

“Michael, Gavin!” One small, young looking girl with a messy bun and thick glasses yelled, catching Gavin’s attention as they approached their car. “Is this a confirmation that you are indeed back together?!”

Gavin grinned at Michael, and squeezed his hand tighter. “We were never apart!” he yelled back, before the two slipped into the car and shut the journalists outside of it. They could still hear the bright flashes and hurled questions and the engine rumbled to life quietly, but neither cared. Michael rubbed Gavin’s knee gently, and in return Gavin kissed him on the cheek.

Michael’s phone rang as they rounded the corner, and he was happy to answer when he saw Lindsay’s name lighting up the screen.

“Lindsay. What’s up?” he asked, teasingly casual.

“What the fuck is going on? I don’t check social media for two seconds and suddenly you’re trending. Did you manage to get him back? Are you coming home?”

Michael looked over at Gavin and grinned. “We’ll be home in a few days. Just got a few errands to run first.”

“Errands?” Lindsay asked incredulously. “What fucking errands do you have in New York City? I can’t keep this table read pushed back forever.”

“A date.” Gavin leant over into the phone and interrupted with complete and utter joy in his voice and his smile. “Michael’s taking me on a date. A real one. He likes me, did you know?”

“You know what?” Lindsay sighed, and for a second, Michael gritted his teeth. The last thing he wanted out of all the happiness was for Lindsay to end up mad at him, or worse, fired. Gavin looked anxious too. Michael held his breath.

“Good luck to you both.” She laughed. “I’m sending you all the love in the world. I really hope it all works out.”

“Thanks Lindsay.” Michael grinned. “I’ll talk to you later. Sort out this giant mess we’ve made?”

“Ryan and I are already on it.” She replied. “Go and take your boyfriend to dinner or something. Have an extra drink on me.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next week for the final update to this story!


	7. Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, things really do work out the way you wanted them. Fate has a funny way of making these things happen.

Chapter Seven: Future

 

 

 

Michael stood in front of the giant mirror that took up an entire wall in their living room, adjusting his silk bowtie. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Gavin behind him, smiling and shaking his head as he watched Michael in the mirror.

“You look fine, love.” Gavin had actually made something of an effort to look formal in neatly pressed trousers that didn’t graze his ankles, expensive loafers and a straight white shirt. His jacket was dark grey, slim fitting around his waist. He looked fucking _incredible_ , and all Michael could look forwards to was after the premiere and the party for _Blue Lights_ , when he’d get to drag Gavin back to their beautiful home and see it all tossed carelessly on the floor. “Stop fiddling.” Gavin slapped his hand away from his bowtie, and curled a ringlet of Michael’s hair around his finger fondly. “You look lovely. My handsome Michael.” He leant up, kissing Michael sweetly on the cheek before his phone pinged and he was distracted again.

“I don’t know.” Michael sighed as Gavin grinned at his phone. “I’m just nervous I guess. But it’s fine. It’s going to be good. People are gonna like it.”

“People are gonna _love_ it! I already do.”

“You haven’t even seen it yet.” Michael scoffed.

“Yeah, but I’m biased because I love everything you’re in!” Gavin laughed. “Even that really naff zombie movie sequel you did.”

“Leave _return of the brain-munchers_ out of this! I was eighteen and desperate, okay?”

They walked together towards the front door, but Gavin hesitated as Michael reached to open it. “What?” he asked. “The car’s here.”

“I just have to do something first.” Gavin said and Michael frowned. He’d noticed his boyfriend had been acting shifty for weeks, figuring Gavin had planned _something_ , but he hadn’t slipped up enough yet to reveal _what_. It was impressive really, because usually whenever Gavin tried to surprise him he’d get too excited and end up spilling the beans prematurely.

“Cause, you know… it’s our anniversary.” Gavin said, and Michael’s frown deepened.

“Uh no it’s not.” He smiled. “Our anniversary was months ago. It’s printed in every magazine Gavin, you moron. We went to dinner in that rooftop restaurant. I bought you that fucking watch you’re wearing.” He pointed to the pricey one-of-a-kind _Piaget_ , diamond encrusted and engraved under the face ( _I love you, forever, moron)._ Gavin enjoyed anything overpriced and flashy. Obviously, he had loved it, and they’d had some of the best sex _ever_ when they got home. “We had a feature in _People_ magazine. You called me Vinny in the interview and I almost punched you in the face, remember?”

“No, you donut!” Gavin laughed. “Our _real_ anniversary. Our _New York_ anniversary.”

Michael stilled. “Oh, is it? I’m sorry Gav… I didn’t even think. I didn’t-”

“Sh!” Gavin stopped him with a mischievous grin, pushing his finger against Michael’s pursed lips in a successful effort to silence him. “I knew you wouldn’t remember, but I bought you a present anyway because I’m the best, ain’t I? Follow me.” he then took Michael by the hand, leading him in the direction of their garage. Michael complained most of the journey, as Gavin had forced him to keep his eyes shut to _‘preserve the surprise’_ , and repeatedly led him into the path of their furniture. Gavin’s excuse was that (even after five months in) he didn’t know their new house well enough with his eyes shut.

“Wait, why the fuck are _your_ eyes closed too?”

“To help me remember, now shut up! I’m opening the door!”

When they stepped into the garage, Michael was surprised to not hear the echoing of their footsteps. Usually, in the giant empty room their voices carried like cheap sound effects on a movie set. He and Gavin hadn’t bothered to even buy a car yet- Michael was lazy enough to still be using a driver whilst swearing he was saving up for something flashy (money he often ended up spending on Gavin instead because it was far more fun) and Gavin didn’t even have a driver’s licence.

“Can I open my eyes yet?” he asked, feeling Gavin’s hand slip from his.

“Just a sec!” Gavin sounded further away, and then something that sounded like a car unlock beeped. “Open them?”

When Michael opened his eyes, his gaze fell from Gavin’s excited face to the most beautiful, most _ridiculous_ car he had ever seen. “You bought me an _Adder?_ ” he asked excitedly, shock dripping from his voice as he rounded the front of the absolute beauty and stared at the shining emblem on the front. “And she’s fucking _Chrome_?” light from the ceiling and Michael’s _Cartier_ bracelet (a gift from Gavin for his birthday) sparkled off the chrome car’s surface as he brushed his fingers against it, causing tiny rainbows to gleam across its surface. Michael’s hand flew to his mouth. Words escaped him. Gavin had fucking _outdone_ himself.

“Come here.” He reached over and pulled Gavin beside him, kissing him roughly on the mouth. Gavin giggled after Michael leant away, and stepped backwards, dropping the keys into his palm. “I just thought, what with this being your first starring role at a premiere, it only seemed appropriate that we showed up in style. And I know you’ve always wanted an Adder. You said so, once when we were in Jersey.”

“You remembered?” Michael asked. Gavin nodded.

“Of course I remembered! I had to save up a little bit- and finding an auto-shop to do the bodywork was a nightmare, but Jack sent me over some connections and I got it. They delivered it this morning whilst you were at the gym.”

“This is why you were acting so fucking weird when I got home?” Michael grinned. “You piece of shit. I love you, _so_ much.”

“Happy Anniversary.” Gavin kissed him again, but softer. “You better get me the most ridiculous, enormous bloody… diamond encrusted IPhone on my birthday to match this.”

“I might be able to do you one better.” Michael replied, taking a step backwards. Gavin frowned, watching as Michael walked across to one of their storage containers in the garage, rifling through it for something small and black which he gripped tightly in his palm. “I mean, I was going to wait till after the movie hype died down so it didn’t look like such a publicity stunt, but fuck it, right? It’s our anniversary, you got me the most incredible present ever and I can’t think of a better time.”

“Michael? What are you saying?” Gavin asked, anxiously. Michael smiled at him.

“Gavin Free, I’ve loved you since I met you. It took me a little time to realise that but every second since has been worth it. We went through a lot to get where we are today, but if I had to, I’d do it all again. I’d do it a thousand times to be with you Gav- and I really didn’t think I’d be doing this here, in our garage in front of my brand new car but…” slowly, Michael lowered onto one knee, and opened the tiny black box. Gavin gasped. Inside, sat a thick golden band, encrusted with three neat sparkling diamonds sat in a line. Then running in a line around the entire ring was a platinum strip, punctuated with tiny diamonds every half a centimetre or so. It was single-handedly the second most beautiful thing Gavin had ever seen, bar Michael himself.

“…I guess what I’m trying to say is… Gavin Free, will you maybe, like, marry me?”

“Yes!” Gavin couldn’t bear the thought of dragging it out any longer. Sure, he could be equally as mushy and gush about his Michael before accepting the ring- but he was too overcome with emotion to even consider it. Instead, he just laughed, and the sound made a fat smile blossom on Michael’s face. He rose back up to stand, and held his hand out. Gavin laid his hand flat on Michael’s and Michael kissed it gently, before slotting the ring onto his finger. “Bloody hell, of course I say yes. I hate you Michael. You always one-up me.”

“I love you too,” Michael laughed, pulling Gavin into his arms tightly and hugging him. “Now let’s go. Before you make me late to my own fucking premiere.”

 

* * *

 

 

There were a lot of questions after that. Obviously, with the fat sparkling jewel on Gavin’s ring finger, not a lot of people were asking about the flash car they rolled up in. Michael teased Gavin about that for _weeks_ following. Their engagement spread quickly, Lindsay lovingly berating him for not telling her he was going to propose before the movie.

“I could’ve got a fucking raise, asshole. Oh, and congratulations, I guess.”

“So you’re going to marry him?” Ray had asked, raising a brow questioningly. “Props dude. Hey Rye, when do I get my ring?”

Ryan walked over to the couch, and flopped down beside Ray, pulling him into a hug. “You hate jewellery, and parties, and legal documentation, dear.”

“So fucking what? It would be a nice gesture.” Ray teased, frowning, but he quickly melted back into a mushy smile when Ryan kissed him on the forehead and Michael pretended to gag.

“Maybe for your birthday. If you’re a good boy.”

“Gross. This is like listening to my parent’s dirty talk.”

“Don’t act like you and Gavin aren’t the two mushiest fucks in existence.” Ray rolled his eyes, flipping Michael off. “I mean come on, when did you by that ring? Two weeks into the relationship?”

“Two months actually.” Michael grinned. “I don’t know why but I guess I just knew, even then, that he was the one. I couldn’t see myself with anyone else, ever. Dickhead’s so excited, he’s already started wedding planning. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the fuck not be so half-assed about something important.”

“I better be your fucking best man, at least!”

“You _hate_ public speaking!”

“You and Ryan are too fucking alike.” Ray pouted. “It’s the fucking gesture. The principle!”

“Fine.” Michael huffed, but he was so happy, he couldn’t even pretend to be mad for longer than a few seconds. “Ray Narvaez Jr. Would you like to be my best man?”

“Fuck no,” Ray scoffed. “Lindsay would be a way better choice.”

“That’s what I was thinking too.” Ryan added.

Michael just shook his head and laughed at the absurdity of it all. One year ago, he’d been scrambling for a flight to New York and dragged Gavin’s ass out of a club before he had the chance to overdose on cocaine. It was staggering, how quickly things had changed after that small, significant event.

It was incredible, how even now, a year later, things were still changing. He and Gavin were going to get _married_.

“Really, when you think about it, it’s the ultimate publicity stunt.” Ryan had teased at their wedding. “To _actually_ fall in love with each other. As your agent, I’m very impressed.”

“Shut up, you wanker.” Gavin rolled his eyes, and squeezed Michael’s hand tightly. “You’re just sad you didn’t come up with it.”

“Lindsay deserves all the credit.” Geoff pitched in. “She’s the one who did most of the legwork. I just pointed at a few random headshots in an office and matched the two of you. Good job I didn’t go with my second choice.”

“Who was your second choice?” Michael asked. This was the first he had ever heard about Geoff’ actual selection. The fact that he and Gavin’s union had been down to something as petty as chance only confirmed it to him further. They were _destined_ to be together. No doubt about it.

“ _Jeremy_ _Dooley_.” Geoff laughed. “But whatever. Good job when I flipped that coin it landed on tails.”

“Geoff!” Gavin shrieked. “You’ve got to be kidding! You’re kidding, right? Tell me you’re kidding?”

“What’s that? A reason to leave? Catch you later.” Geoff picked up his drink and sped away from the table, merging into the crowd without another word. Gavin stood up, and chased after him. Michael just laughed.

“Geoff’s joking.” Lindsay said, after Gavin had left. “He didn’t really flip a coin. He flipped three. Heads for Jeremy, Tails for Gavin. Guess what it landed on?”

Michael grinned. “Tails?” he asked. She nodded.

“Tails. Every single time.”

“What _are_ the odds of that?” Ryan asked, but his (likely) detailed and mathematical explanation was cut short by a fierce glare from Ray. “I swear to God,” he said, “if you start this three-coin bullshit _again_ , your dick isn’t coming within three feet of me for the next year.”

That told Ryan. “To tails!” he settled for instead, lifting his drink in toast. Michael just laughed.

“To tails.” He shook his head, amusedly as they clinked their glasses together. “Thank _fuck_ it was tails.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The end of the road! Thanks to all of you who followed this story, gave kudos and commented. I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing it!!!!!!! Love 2 u all, and never fear, there's like 10000 other Mavin/Raywood/Turnwood/ETC fics on the rest of my AO3, if you're inclined to stick around!

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos! Comments? Questions?????
> 
> All are appreciated. Also, hit up my other fics, find me on tumblr (PAPERKS1N.tumblr.com) or follow me on twitter (@papersk1n)


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